To My Brother, Thor, Whom I Slept With
by wrathkitty
Summary: "The boys froze in terror as their father silently took in the scene before him: Loki, bare-chested and clinging halfway up the bedpost in an attempt to avoid Thor, who had been trying to write swear words on Loki's skin using his new nasal appendages." (One of many nighttime scrapes that Loki and Thor get into; or, why the young princes of Asgard are the best birth control ever.)
1. Great Aunt Snotra's Funeral

_(AN: To get to the funny stuff first, scroll down to the 1st break (after this one), go up a few lines, and look for "Snotra.")_

* * *

To My Brother, Thor, Whom I Slept With:

Great Aunt Snotra's Funeral

* * *

"Cruelty?" Loki repeated incredulously, cutting him off. _"You,_ who abandoned me on Svartalfheim after I saved your useless hide, _and_ your precious Jane Foster – twice? And you speak to _me_ of cruelty?"

He was snarling now, beyond reason and blinded by hurt as he continued his rant, hissing, "You, who sit there from your throne of righteous indignation, accusing me of deceit and cruelty! Oh no, brother," he cried, "you will not lay my so-called sins at my feet, when you could have known the truth all along, had you _thought_ to take my body with you instead of leaving my corpse to rot – _why are you laughing?_"

Thor's shoulders were shaking in helpless mirth, but there was an undertone of hysteria to his laughter that kept Loki from killing him outright. With inordinate effort, he forced himself to harness his wrath and began to pace the length of the room, furiously waiting for the buffoon to cease his idiotic guffawing.

"Have you not been listening to yourself, cow?" Thor exclaimed when he could speak again. "Shouting at me over my lack of _sentiment_ because I did not immediately construct a pyre and send you off properly, never mind that we were in the midst of battle?"

At the word 'sentiment,' Loki came to an abrupt halt, stiffening.

"You never held the remains of the dead in such high esteem before," Thor continued pointedly from behind him. "Or do you not remember Great Aunt Snotra's funeral?"

"Yes, I remember," Loki snapped without turning around, "and it's not sentiment, it's principle. Besides," he added in a derisive mutter, "Great Aunt Snotra always found reason to box our ears whenever she watched us as children."

He heard Thor burst into laughter again. This time, however, his brother's chuckling seemed to come from a place of genuine amusement rather than sorrow. "Indeed she did," he agreed, a smile in his voice, "which is why you sent her off to Valhalla with earlobes that stretched down to her knees."

"I thought it a vast improvement," Loki sniffed, wholly unapologetic. "It distracted the eye from her face."

He was trying his best to stay angry, but the rage that had set his blood to boiling had started to dampen, and a faint smile touched his mouth as he remembered that night…

* * *

Thor and he, no more than six or seven years old, standing in the crowd with their parents as the flaming pyre slipped over the edge of Franang's Falls. Each boy was determined to outdo the other in looking as mournful as possible, all the while trying to contain their sniggers whenever someone commented about the unusual flesh-colored bow that had been tied under Great-Aunt Snotra's chin.

"She was truly a credit to her name," one pompous dignitary remarked, dabbing at his eyes, "for whom better than the Goddess of Prudence to go to her eternal rest with naught but a modest ribbon about her neck?"

_"Behave!"_ Frigga whispered sharply when a strangled snort escaped Thor, then glared warning daggers at Loki, who was turning purple in his efforts to stifle his own laughter.

The truth behind Great Aunt Snotra's curious funeral trimmings came to light later that evening. Both princes were thrashed soundly and sent to bed without supper, whereupon (at his brother's suggestion) Loki began trying to grow a second nose on Thor's face – practice, Thor explained, for any other upcoming funerals for relatives they did not particularly like. Loki was fairly successful at casting the spell, and laughed until he cried when Thor stuck drawing pencils up all three nostrils and proceeded to chase him around their bedchamber.

A sleep-deprived Odin stormed through the door in the midst of this game, roaring oaths and making promises of a second thrashing. The boys froze in terror as their father silently took in the scene before him – Loki, bare-chested and clinging halfway up the bedpost in an attempt to avoid Thor, who had been trying to write swear words on Loki's skin using his new nasal appendages – and then looked at each other in amazement when he promptly marched right back out again.

Their mother made an appearance soon after, her countenance more curious than angry, and exhibited a reaction similar to the Allfather's (by this time Thor had swapped the pencils for lit candlesticks and was dodging Loki's carefully-aimed mouthfuls of water). Heeding her maternal instincts, she returned several minutes later to douse the curtains, which had caught fire; yanked Loki's shirt back over his head and furiously ordered them both to go to sleep that instant.

(Thor and Loki never knew, but after marching out of their chamber, Frigga spent the next half-hour venting her frustration to Odin about _his_ sons. Her husband reasonably pointed out that scorched window dressings were hardly worth complaining about, especially in light of the midnight escapades that had transpired the previous week, which started when Thor stole a bag of chewing tobacco from a guard, and ended with Loki somehow not only convincing him to eat every last piece but then wash it all down with Frigga's best cologne – the younger prince of Asgard earned his name of Silvertongue at a very tender age.)

Under the baleful eyes of Huginn and Munnin, Thor and Loki spent the rest of that night whispering under the blankets, having lengthy discussions about whether three nostrils were better than two, what Father might look like with a nose in place of his eye patch, and whether the punishment they'd receive if Loki were able to pull off such a feat would be worth the trouble. They decided that, yes, it most certainly would be worth it, and drifted off to sleep, Thor snoring lightly with one arm and one leg sprawled over Loki. Despite the heavy weight across his chest and legs, Loki slept soundly, secure in the knowledge that his brother would always keep him safe.

When the princes came down to breakfast the following morning (the elder with a sore red nose, and the younger's cheek still bearing the smudged remnants of drawing pencil), Odin gravely informed his sons that they were expressly forbidden from attending funerals again until they were of age – but were now old enough to have separate bedchambers.

* * *

_That's all, folks! Please let me know if you liked it. And, if you did, go to my author page and take a gander at "You've Got Sucker's Luck," my Loki fic-in-progress from whence this one-shot came. I think that was bad grammar but it's two AM which is the wrathkitty rambling hour where I talk about ponies and hanging clauses._

_Random stuff (see above about 2 AM): The Norse Goddess of Prudence really was named Snotra. The title is a twist on Bill Cosby's "To my brother, Russell, whom I slept with." Huginn are Muginn are Odin's ravens. Thor's questionable choices in midnight snacks is based on my husband, who at the age of 3 ate a container of dipping tobacco, followed by an Aqua Velva chaser. This is the tip of the iceberg in the number of how-the-f*ck-did-you-survive-to-adulthood stories his parents have told me about raising him (there is a reason we don't have kids yet. I would end up like Frigga, except with less impressive hair and no semi-rational spouse to keep me grounded when my own little Loki and Thor are setting things on fire after face-planting into a kerosene heater [another true story]). Suffice to say I have a WEALTH of material that could easily be translated into more misadventures of 6-year-old Loki and Thor, AKA Frigga and Odin debate the merits of eating their young. If you're interested, PM me or leave a review saying as much…if there are enough requests then I'm happy to keep adding to this fic._

_Anyway. Go look at You've Got Sucker's Luck - if anything to just see Loki's reaction to trying a caramel macchiato. (Hint: He's not going to be getting a Starbucks loyalty card anytime soon)_


	2. A Midnight Lesson

_AN: This chapter is slightly sacrilegious. Which is to say very._

* * *

To My Brother, Thor, Whom I Slept With:

A Midnight Lesson in Midgard's Current Events

* * *

"Loki, are you certain this is a good idea?" Thor asked.

"Of course, brother," Loki assured him. He tightened the rope around Thor's waist, stepping back to survey his handiwork with a critical eye, and then compared the results to the illustrations in the book he was using as a reference. _More knots, _he decided. "Master Ullr is always telling you to visualize in your mind what we read in our lessons."

"But can't we just go to Midgard and see it for ourselves?"

Loki frowned as he made a few more adjustments to the bindings. "You know Father won't let us go to Midgard again after what you did last time. Stop fidgeting!"

"The rope scratches!" Thor tried to twist away but stilled when he saw Loki's no-nonsense glare. "And what happened was not my fault!"

"You started a land war in Asia," Loki pointed out.

Thor looked down at the wooden practice swords and daggers strewn about his feet – they were to serve as kindling – and tried not to sulk. "I still don't even know what that _means." _He paused, then asked, "What _is_ Asia, anyway?"

"One of the Christian saints, of course," Loki said with all of the authority any six-year-old boy who doesn't have a clue what he's talking about could possibly muster. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what their father had been so up in arms about during that trip, either, but Thor was the one getting punished and not him, so he'd not been paying terribly close attention to the matters of Asia or land wars therein.

Thor just continued grumbling. Rolling his eyes, Loki knelt down and to take a closer examination of book's illustrations. Like all of the texts he and his brother shared, _Current Events of Midgard and Other Mostly Harmless Realms_ was a weighty tome, and this particular beast was one of Loki's favourites. Its pages were always changing, updated regularly to reflect the constant tumult of Earth's primitive societies.

"I still think we ought to do this outside," he dubiously remarked. He hefted the book onto his knees and turned it around to show Thor. "The bedpost does not look anything like this stake in the picture."

"Well, stakes are made out of wood, are they not?" Thor pointed out. "And the bedpost is wood."

"That's true," Loki was forced to agree.

With that issue settled, he set the book aside and took stock of their inventory. "All right…we have kindling, a stake, a heretic – " Thor attempted to bow, a difficult thing given he was bound from knee to shoulder in rope. "Now all we need is fire. Where did you put the flint and tinder?"

A very guilty look came over Thor's face. "Um…I thought you had it."

Loki glowered at him. _"No," _he snapped, _"I_ don't have it, because _I'm_ not tall enough to reach the cupboard in the larder! That's why it was _your_ job!"

"I'm sorry, Loki," Thor said sincerely. "Can't you use a spell, like Mother?"

Loki was not quite able to stop his bottom lip from jutting out at the mention of this sensitive topic. "She says I'm not old enough to learn fire magic yet."

"Well, get some coals from the fireplace," Thor suggested, motioning over to the hearth with his chin. The servants had banked the fire before the princes went to bed, but a few glowing embers could still be seen amidst the ashes.

Muttering into his nonexistent beard over the unfairness of fretful mothers and forgetful brothers, Loki stalked across the room and came to a halt in front of the hearth. He focused his gaze on one of the orange coals, cupped both hands together, and closed his eyes, whispering the words Frigga had taught him. Warmth filled his hands, and when he opened his eyes again, a single coal floated between his palms. _This_ magic he had at least been permitted to learn.

"It's starting to go out," he warned, hurrying back over to Thor with his hands held out before him.

"Then hurry up – I can't feel my arms anymore."

Loki knelt down at the pile of wooden practice weapons and looked up at Thor. "You're supposed to say why you're a heretic," he reminded him.

Thor had that blank look on his face again.

"I hereby renounce…," Loki prompted.

"Oh!" Thor brightened and then took a deep breath, bellowing, _"I hereby renounce the one true god!"_

Loki began laughing so hard he almost dropped the coal. "You dunderhead," he chortled between whoops of laughter, "that's what the Romans _want_ the Christians to – oh, never mind."

He deposited the coal onto the makeshift pyre and scrambled to his feat. "I condemn you to your false god, heathen!" he shouted.

Having completed these crucial steps, both boys assumed the most serious expressions of which they were capable and waited for the fire to catch.

* * *

_In the adjacent bedchamber…_

* * *

"Odin."

"Mmph."

"Do you smell smoke?"

There was a sigh, followed by the rustling of bedclothes. "My dear, all of Asgard is lit with torches," Odin yawned, reaching out his arm and drawing Frigga close to his side. "I would be concerned if you did _not_ smell smoke."

"And I would be concerned if you take that patronizing tone with me again," she snapped, not mollified in the slightest, even less so when she heard Odin's sleepy chuckle.

"Forgive me," he said, giving her a gentle squeeze. "I promise to be sweetness and light the next time you wake me in the dead of night to ask me ridiculous questions."

She pointedly withdrew Odin's hand from where it was trying to slide under her nightdress and huffed. "You forget that behavior such as _that_ is why I am compelled to wake you to ask you ridiculous questions," she reminded him. "Or do you wish to add a third troublemaker to our brood?"

Odin's eye widened at such a prospect; she might as well have doused his libido with a bucket of ice water. Loki and Thor were well on their way to sending their parents to an early grave, and not even Idunn's apples could bolster Odin and Frigga through the inevitable mayhem if they were foolish enough to give the boys a new sibling.

"I am sorry to tell you, my dear, but I believe I have developed a sudden headache."

"Poor thing. Shall I fetch one of the healers for an analgesic?"

"No, no," Odin said hastily, "that will not be necessary."

A peaceful silence fell, albeit briefly.

"Odin, I _swear_ I smell smoke."

The Allfather sighed and endeavored to be patient. "Frigga, I truly believe it is just your imagination. You know as well as I that only time the boys are ever quiet is when they are —"

Muffled yelling came from next door.

"— Asleep," Odin finished. He and Frigga stared at one another in the darkness.

"It's your turn," they said in unison.

Both were readying their arguments when their chamber door cracked open. They fell silent, watching as a Loki-shaped shadow padded across the room and tiptoed over to the wardrobe that stood in the far corner. Rustling could be heard a moment later.

Frigga reached for the lamp on her nightstand, throwing the room into full illumination.

"Loki?"

The little boy froze, squinting at his parents in the sudden brightness. "You're supposed to be asleep!" he squawked.

"As are you," Odin said sternly. "What do you have in your hands?"

Loki pressed his back to the wardrobe, wide-eyed. "Nothing, Father."

Now it was Frigga's turn to glare. Looking reproachful, she motioned the boy over to her side of the bed. Loki's face fell and he went to her, drawing his hands from behind his back as he went.

"Flint and tinder?" she exclaimed when he reluctantly set his contraband on top of the bedclothes. "Has the fire in your chamber gone out?"

"No," Loki said promptly. "The fire in our chamber has not gone out."

Frigga and Odin exchanged a look; both were quite familiar with their youngest child's ability to alternately dodge and stretch the truth to meet his needs.

"Loki, what are you and Thor doing?" she asked wearily.

The little boy shuffled from side-to-side. "Erm…"

"The truth, child," Odin warned him.

"Studying." Loki's inflection made this sound more like a question than an answer.

"I have never known you boys to be so devoted to Master Ullr's lessons," Odin remarked as he rose from the bed. He grabbed Loki by the collar, adding, "Certainly not Thor, anyway."

"But we _were_ studying!" Loki protested, scrambling to keep up with his father's much-longer strides as he was unceremoniously hauled towards the door. "We were studying about the current events of Midgard!"

Frigga threw a cloak around her shoulders and followed close behind, half-curious and half-dreading what mayhem awaited them.

Odin threw open the adjoining door that connected his and Frigga's bedchamber to the boys' and came to a halt. Thor stood neatly tied to the bedpost, surrounded by still-smoking practice weapons and reciting prayers of his own creation.

"Hello, Father!" he said brightly. "We are playing martyr. Loki is burning me at the stake for being a heretic, but the fire went out."

"Which it would not have done if you'd taught me the fire spell, Mother," Loki couldn't help saying.

"I will not have a son known as the God of Pyromania," Odin barked. "Untie your brother at once." He pushed Loki forward, who began to protest.

"But then his soul will not go to the Christian heaven –"

_"NOW!"_

"Oh, all right…"

"Whose idea was this?" Frigga asked as Loki went to untie Thor. Loki's history of tricking his older brother into the most outrageous schemes made him the likely culprit, but she was trying to be fair.

Loki was suddenly very absorbed in loosening the rope from around Thor.

"Boys…"

"Homework for Master Ullr?" Thor said hopefully.

"Extra credit," Loki added, thinking this might help bolster their story. He finished untying the last knot and helped Thor step out from his would-be pyre.

Odin raised a fierce eyebrow and sternly pointed to the area before him. Both boys shuffled over, faces down, shoulders slumped, as their mother made her way to sit on the bed. _Current Events of Midgard _still lay open on the pillow and she pulled it towards her, shaking her head when she saw the illustrations. Only Loki would have come up with the idea of martyring his brother as a prank.

"You will clean up this mess," Odin thundered.

Thor looked up in outrage, appalled by such a horrible prospect. "That is a servant's –"

"You will clean up this mess," Odin repeated, raising his voice now. "And you are hereby forbidden from doing anything that involves fire, martyrdom, or _land wars_…"

By the time the Allfather was done, the list of things from which Thor and Loki were forbidden to do was longer than the list of what was permissible. The boys were sent straight back to bed with promises of their father coming up with even more creative punishments by the morning, and their parents returned to their own chamber, whereupon they decided they were damned either way and took out their frustrations in a time honored marital tradition.

* * *

_ Later that night._

* * *

"Thor. Are you awake?"

"Mmph…Loki, g'sleep."

Loki tried again, poking his brother in the shoulder.

"Thor?"

"'M _tired_…"

"I've an idea for something we could try that does not involve fire or martyrdom. Do you wish to hear it?"

Thor pulled the pillow over his head. "Can it not wait 'till morning?"

"No."

The pillow shifted, and Thor cast a grouchy eye out from beneath it. Loki was beside him, reading _Current Events of Midgard _by the glow of a bright green star-shaped light he'd conjured.

"What is your idea?" Thor asked sleepily.

Loki beamed at him. "How long do you think it would take for us to build a guillotine?"

* * *

AN Pt II: Sorry for _The Princess Bride_ and _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy _inside jokes, but it was **inconceivable** for me to not include them ;-) This story is based on my mom, who tried to burn her little sister at the stake when they were little. She was inspired by a Sunday school lesson and was thankfully caught by my grandmother when she came into the kitchen looking for matches.


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